I say stumbled intentionally and as jarring as the last sentence was, that's exactly how it felt. She hid the fact that she was not well for a long time which meant so much of the rollercoaster that she no doubt went through, she dealt with alone.
She was tough, and bright, and opinionated, and a combination of her attitude and aptitude meant that she had overcome every boundary, every wall, every obstacle that had held her back. There was nothing that she couldn't conquer, and she approached her diagnosis with the same mindset.
Every trial that was available, every option that had some benefit, every diet and every experimental drug that she could get into, she did. As each showed little or no change to her condition, and as the years passed, the time between trials lengthened, the list of options shortened, but we never knew that. She wouldn't tell anyone a trial had finished or the results had come back until she found another. Until she had hope to provide her closest friends and family, she chose not to share.
I can only guess what that was like. For someone so in charge of her life to keep her emotions in check and keep control of the way she presented the news to those around her would have taken its own toll.
She put on a brilliant performance. To the final curtain she was always the life of the BBQ, the first one there, and the last one to leave. She was the only one who would disagree with me and show sources during normal conversations. She could have an amortization spreadsheet done up over dinner just to prove a point and still had the eyelashes to wrap every single university tutor around her finger when she needed help.
It's been 10 years and there isn't anyone in our friends' group who doesn't miss her around. She'd probably be proud that we've all gone on to do amazing things, but horribly disappointed that we still waste time thinking about her. So rather than doing this 'in memorandum' or 'in her memory' I want to do this for everyone else. I think it's what she would have wanted.
So for everyone that has ever been given that life altering news, for everyone that has a partner, a friend, or a family member going through that same cycle of hope and doubt, for anyone guarding their emotions to hold onto the normality of their friend groups, we're here for you.
Everyone will have a different experience but Civil Engineer or Rocket Scientist we all need each other. When Liz was here all I could think about was what I could say to make it right, but now I wish only that I could hear her speak again. Pro-tip: No one knows what to say. Have the conversation anyway.
While everyone needs to process these events differently, there is no engineering standard to follow when someone is diagnosed, there are no magic rules of thumb, gravity is 10 assumptions to follow, for those going through it and those around them the opportunity to share that rollercoaster makes it just that bit easier to ride.
As the 10-year anniversary of Liz's passing arrives, help us provide some visibility, some tough conversations, some hope, and someone to share the ride with.
